


Shadowlands

by Amberdreams



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Purgatory, Team Free Purgatory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-24
Updated: 2013-06-24
Packaged: 2017-12-16 01:40:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/856322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amberdreams/pseuds/Amberdreams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For some, life in Purgatory is about pure survival and the basest of instincts.  For others it's about finding their soul.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shadowlands

Unbeta'd fill for the square _blood loss_ for [](http://hc-bingo.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://hc-bingo.livejournal.com/)**hc_bingo**  
 **Title:** Shadowlands  
 **Fandom** : Supernatural  
 **Characters** : Dean and Benny - Gen though you could read slash into it if you tried really really hard.  
 **Prompt:** Blood loss  
 **Medium:** Fic  
 **Wordcount** : 646  
 **Rating:** Pg-15  
 **Warnings:** Blood, Open Wound, blood loss and lust  
 **Summary:** For some, life in Purgatory is about pure survival and the basest of instincts.  For others it's about finding their soul.

When Dean went down, it was Benny’s hand outstretched to haul his ass back up again.  When Dean fell, Benny was there to catch him.  
That was just how it was, how it had been for however long it was since Benny had first joined Dean’s search for Castiel.  And wasn’t that just the funniest part of this whole affair?  A vampire and a human teaming up was weird enough, but the fact that the unlikeliest pairing in the whole of this god-forsaken pit that constituted Purgatory was busy looking for the human’s pet angel, well, that took the proverbial biscuit.

At night, when Dean slept because even he couldn’t keep awake forever, Benny would muse on the vagaries of whichever Fate had thrown their paths together, and smile.  Sometimes his fangs presented when he smiled, most times they didn’t.  Either way, Dean didn’t know which face Benny was showing his new friend, alone in the tangled forest in the dead of Purgatory’s deep dark nights.

After a little while in each other’s company, forced to have each other’s backs, Benny found that he was seeing Dean the man, not just a ride out of there.  He even liked the guy.  It worried him some.

So this time when Dean went down and didn’t get up again, Benny was more than just aggrieved about the possibility of loosing his key to Purgatory’s door.  He was concerned that he was going to loose someone he cared for.  Again.

It wasn’t until the two Leviathan were well and truly dead, and Benny could get to Dean’s still form and assess the extent of the damage, that Benny realised what trouble he was in.  Dean was unconscious, which was bad news but not the main problem.  One of the black gooey bastards had ripped Dean open, and the ground underneath him was already soaked with bright arterial blood.  Benny could smell it from yards away, and had to force himself to walk closer because the scent was heady, so rich and fine his fangs dropped before he could even blink.  His hand was trembling as he crouched down and reached out to roll Dean over.

Sure, being with a human all day every day had been hard; resisting all that warm, fresh blood pumping round in a walking talking food-package of snark and bravado and vulnerability wasn’t easy.  But it was nothing compared to this.

Dean was bleeding out.  His face was already too pale under its layer of dirt and dried Leviathan blood and patchy stubble where he insisted on shaving with that ridiculously large bowie knife of his.  Benny could see Dean’s life’s blood pumping from a jagged wound in the man’s upper thigh, and knew death would not take too long to visit them if he didn’t act, and act quickly.

Yet he was frozen in place, knees cramping as he felt the slick heat of the blood coating his hand where it rested, too lightly to be of any use, above the gaping hole.  He lifted his hand and it felt heavy as guilt, dripping red with regret.  His tongue slipped over the sharp edges of his teeth, his mouth watering.

When he tore his gaze away from all that intense red, he saw Dean’s eyes were open, glinting green, the memory of grass in a grey world.  He held that strangely non-judgemental gaze for a single beat of Dean’s heart, before spitting onto his bloody palm and slamming his hand down hard onto the wound.  Dean cried out, a shout of agony abruptly cut off as he realised the noise could draw their enemies down on them.

“Easy, brother,” Benny said soft and low, as he applied pressure and the healing properties of Vampire saliva to Dean’s injury.

They both knew a corner had been turned and Benny was certain now, if he hadn’t been before, there was no going back for him.


End file.
